


there's a room where the light won't find you

by SilverHeart09



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: F/F, Mentions of suicide (but nothing descriptive), Timey Wimey, Yaz dies but she also doesn't, post 'can you hear me?', trigger warnings in notes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:55:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22895239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverHeart09/pseuds/SilverHeart09
Summary: After answering a call for help, Yaz unwittingly gives the last three years of her life to an Eternal seeking revenge for what the Doctor did to his friends.Three years in the future, the Doctor wakes up with a pounding headache and dreams about a young woman with long dark hair.She then makes it her mission to find her.
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor/Yasmin Khan
Comments: 117
Kudos: 166





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so pay attention fam cause if you don't read this then come after me in the comments I'm gonna be CROSS.  
> More detailed synopsis (READ FIRST):  
> After agreeing to give the past three years of her life to an eternal known as the Clockmaker - in exchange for sparing the lives of her friends - Yaz's timeline is rewritten. The Clockmaker engineers it so Yaz does commit suicide (which is only mentioned, there's no graphic descriptions and I'm not gonna write it happening) except in doing so he creates an alternate timeline in which the Doctor (who has a serious headache at this point) figures out what happens and sets about fixing it and saving Yaz.  
> Trigger warnings for mentions of suicide and mental health issues. There won't be anything graphic or overly descriptive and it WILL have a reasonably happy ending.

‘Here we are!’ the Doctor announced, flinging wide the door of the TARDIS as she stepped outside. ‘This is where the distress call originated. I can’t see anyone though. Hello? I’m the Doctor, I’m here with my mates. We’re answering your call for help. Anyone in?’

Yaz, Ryan, and Graham followed her into what looked like a shop. It was perhaps the noisiest shop they’d ever been in, and Ryan quickly realised that was because they were surrounded by clocks of all shapes and sizes. They all told different times and ticked out of sync, which made it perhaps even more annoying, and they were so crammed together that the four of them found they had to be extra careful where they put their elbows. 

‘This doesn’t look much like our usual distress call, Doc,’ Graham pointed out. ‘What do you reckon is going on? I can’t see anyone here.’

‘It looks like we’re in London,’ the Doctor said thoughtfully, peering out of a grubby window and minding herself as she ducked under a cuckoo clock that was hanging over her head. ‘Oxford street, if I’m not mistaken.’ She frowned, hands on her hips as she scronched her face at a display of pocket watches. ‘Can’t say I remember a clock shop being here though, and I’ve been to London  _ loads  _ of times.’

‘Could the TARDIS have gotten it a bit wrong?’ Yaz asked. ‘I mean, it does sometimes get us a little bit lost.’

The Doctor looked as though Yaz had just insulted her mother, and Ryan quickly stepped in. 

‘Or maybe the shop is bigger than we think it is?’ he suggested. ‘We should have a poke around, see what’s what.’

‘Solid suggestion,’ Graham said, eager to avoid a domestic. He headed towards the back of the shop, keeping himself tucked in as he wove in and out of grandfather clocks. It reminded him of the old antique shops in Sheffield, warehouses that had been stuffed full of all sorts; except some of the clocks in here actually looked quite expensive. He could have sworn one of them had a gold plated face. 

The Doctor had her sonic screwdriver out and was frowning at it. She tapped it twice against her palm and activated it again, sweeping it in front of her in that grandiose gesture that Yaz was beginning to love to hate, though she was finding it difficult to not get an attack of the giggles now Ryan had pointed out to her that the Doctor's sonic arm was like an elephant and its trunk. 

‘Anything?’ Ryan said now, desperately trying to keep his hands to himself though Yaz could tell he wanted nothing more than to prize open a fob watch and fiddle around with it. 

‘It’s weird,’ the Doctor said, frowning at her sonic. ‘It’s like the distress call is coming from all these clocks.’

‘Clocks can transmit distress calls?’ Yaz said, confused. ‘Are you sure the TARDIS just didn't get a bit overwhelmed with all the ticking? It is a  _ time  _ machine after all.’

_ ‘Yasmin Khan,’  _ the Doctor said, annoyed. ‘Stop dragging my TARDIS. And no, FYI. She didn't get confused with all the clocks. These clocks  _ are  _ transmitting a distress signal. It’s just a bit of a weird one. It’s like morse code, a message in sequences.’ 

‘Wait, you mean these clocks are ticking out a message?’ Graham called from somewhere near the back.

‘That’s exactly what I mean! Ten points to Graham,’ the Doctor said, with a pointed look at Yaz. ‘The TARDIS - because she’s  _ the best ship in the whole universe -  _ picked up on it and translated the message.’

‘Alright,’ Yaz said, hands up in the air and an apologetic smile on her face. ‘Your TARDIS is very very clever. What did the message say?’

‘Nothing in particular, standard intergalactic SOS,’ the Doctor shrugged. ‘It’s weird though. The amount of time it would have taken to arrange all these clocks to tick out a distress signal. We’re talking about months of work.’

‘And there isn’t even anyone here,’ Ryan pointed out. 

‘We should poke around,’ the Doctor nodded decisively. ‘See what we can find. Someone wanted us to come here, we just need to find out who.’ 

They split up in the easy way they usually did, the Doctor prowling around the front of the shop like a cat - lifting and putting down every mantlepiece clock, pocket watch, digital clock and fob watch she could find - and sniffing the air curiously. She seemed on edge, a little unsure of herself, and Yaz watched her out of the corner of her eye as she headed towards a display cabinet filled with wrist watches. Even the most mundane of tasks was exciting with the Doctor around. She was like a moth to a light, anything bright and shiny drew her attention immediately; though Yaz seemed to be the 

only person who didn't miss the flash of insecurity on her face when she thought her friends weren’t looking. 

The wrist watches yielded no answers, and Yaz continued moving around the shop. Ryan had found a set of vintage alarm clocks he was fascinated with, and Yaz was pretty sure Graham must have found the kitchen as she heard a quiet  _ yes!  _ followed by the munching of teeth on a biscuit. For Yaz, she couldn’t make heads nor tails of this place. The shop looked old and everything was covered in a thin layer of dust. It was clear no-one had ran a hoover through the faded, 80’s style carpet or a dust cloth and a bottle of windolene over the glass display cabinets in a long time, yet someone must come in every now and then as some of the clocks required winding up and - judging by the weights and winding chain on a swiss-style cuckoo clock - that had clearly been done recently. 

Behind the cabinet of wrist watches, Yaz realised there was a door. 

It was an ordinary door. Brown, wooden, with a silver handle like any other, and yet it called Yaz in a way no other door could. Not even the doors of the TARDIS excited her as must as this door did, and the old blue box was the gateway to a whole  _ universe _ . This door was drawing her in, enticing her to open it, and when Yaz reached out for the handle it opened without her needing to lay a finger on it. 

She heard Ryan telling Graham off for pinching someone’s food, and the Doctor's delighted gasp as she realised he’d found a packet of custard creams, and she stepped into another room. 

It was dark, that was the first thing Yaz noticed, and she blindly reached around for a lightswitch; fumbling along the wall searching for a pull cord or a switch she could flick.

Then, without her needing to do anything, the lights suddenly came on around her and Yaz blinked as it assaulted her eyes, bringing her hands up to her face when she realised she’d unintentionally been looking right at the bulb as it had turned on.

‘Ah, my apologies,’ a soothing voice said. ‘It’s meant to be an automatic light, turns on as soon as someone walks in, but the wiring is a bit dodgy. It needs repairing.’

The harsh white flashes in front of her eyes were receding, and when Yaz was finally able to see again she realised there was a man sat in a chair in front of her, smiling at her. 

He was a large man and tall too. Yaz could tell he was well over six foot even sat in the chair. He wore a peculiar outfit, long brown robes that had clearly seen better days and he had a thick head of hair, curly and down to his shoulders. His eyes were narrowed and squinty and a pair of small wire framed glasses perched on the end of his nose, giving him the appearance of being a little cross eyed. 

It took Yaz a few moments to notice that the room, aside from the man on the chair in the centre of it, was completely empty. In fact, she was beginning to get the uncomfortable suspicion that the man had been waiting for her to find him. 

‘Um, hi,’ Yaz said, unsure how to begin. ‘I’m -’

‘Yasmin Khan. Yes, I know who you are,’ the man replied, rising from the chair, and Yaz saw she was correct in her assumption that the man was over six foot tall. He practically loomed over her and Yaz took a step back, trying to put as much distance between herself and the man as she could. Whoever he was, he wasn’t in distress and Yaz could tell that she and her friends had likely walked into a trap.

‘Yaz? Where did you - oh. Hi.’

The Doctor's presence was, as always, like a soothing balm and Yaz instantly felt braver with the other woman standing at her side. The Doctor peered at the man, head tilted to one side, and Yaz could tell she was sizing him up. She clearly wasn’t sure what to make of him either.

‘I’m the Doctor,’ she said brightly, trying for friendly as she always did. ‘And you are…?’

‘Lord Doctor,’ the man said, a twisted smile stretching across his face as Yaz saw the friendly one fall straight off the Doctor's.

‘Ere, what did you call you, Doc? A lord or someat?’

Graham peered around the door, checking out the small space as he made his way inside with Ryan close behind. Yaz wanted to turn and tell them all to run, though she could tell the Doctor's interest was peaked now. Her friend wasn’t going to leave until she had answers. Yaz just wasn’t sure she wanted to hear them. 

‘Don’t call me that,’ the Doctor said, her voice dark, and the man smirked. 

‘Why? Don’t like being reminded of your ancestry?’

‘What’s he on about?’ Ryan asked, gesturing at him. ‘And who is he? Is he the guy who sent the distress call? Clock? Tick? Whatever it is.’

‘A combination of all three, Ryan Sinclair,’ the man replied, nodding politely at him as Ryan started in shock. 

‘You know who we are then?’ Graham asked, and Yaz could see the nervousness on his face. From experience, it was  _ never  _ good when people already knew who they were. 

‘Yes, Graham O’Brien,’ the man said. ‘I’ve been watching you all very closely.’

‘Alright, bit creepy,’ the Doctor said, pulling a face. ‘What do you want? Why did you bring us here? And who  _ are -’ _

The man snapped his fingers and the Doctor froze. Literally. It was like she was an image on a television when it had suddenly been paused, her mouth still open as though any second she was about to finish her sentence, though no words came out.

‘Oi!’ Graham yelled. ‘What did you do to -’

The man snapped again and Graham and Ryan froze as well. They’d been about to stand in front of the Doctor, perhaps in an attempt to protect her, but now they were stood either side of her like sentry guards. Yaz reached out a hand, felt the fabric of the Doctor's coat. She was still there, still real and alive, but she was completely still. It was terrifying, in a way, even more so when Yaz realised the Doctor's eyes were looking straight at her.

Whatever the man had done to her, the Doctor could still see and hear everything.

‘That’s better,’ the man said with a sigh. ‘You’re the only one I wanted to see anyway, Yasmin Khan.’

‘Why?’ Yaz asked, beyond confused. ‘I’m no-one.’

‘Ah, but you see that’s where you’re wrong,’ the man disagreed. ‘I mean yes, you are no-one, but to me you’re a pawn in a game of universal chess.’

‘I don’t like the sound of that,’ Yaz said uncertainly.

‘No,’ the man chuckled. ‘I imagine you don’t. Introductions though! Where are my manners. My name is Corvax, though I prefer  _ the Clockmaker.’ _

‘The Clockmaker?’ Yaz frowned. She thought of the Doctor's peculiar name - more like a title really - as well as the Master and the Corsair. ‘Are you the same race as the Doctor?’

The Clockmaker scowled darkly, eyes darkening dangerously, and Yaz knew she’d said the wrong thing.

_ ‘No,’  _ he said through gritted teeth. ‘I most certainly am not. You’ve met two of my colleagues already. Zellin and Rakaya.’ 

Dread like a cold wave washed over Yaz. She most certainly did remember the two eternals who had spied on their nightmares and almost gorged themselves on the dreams of every human on Earth. They weren’t people you forgot in a hurry.

‘You’re -’

‘Another immortal, yes,’ the Clockmaker said with that same, sick smile. ‘I can’t undo the trap you and your friends locked them in, but I can make the Doctor suffer for ever daring to cross us.’ 

Yaz looked at the Doctor again. Her green eyes were still fixed on Yaz’s face, though she remained completely frozen like Graham and Ryan. She didn't seem able to break free and Yaz had never felt so powerless, completely unable to save herself or her friends. What would the Doctor do? Try to outthink him probably, or just carry on babbling and monologuing until she eventually came up with a plan. 

Yaz was no good at either of those things and if the Clockmaker was as dangerous as his copatriates had been then Yaz knew she’d have no chance of talking herself out of this one. 

‘It’s simple, really,’ the clockmaker continued. ‘You want to save your friends, right? Simple. I only need one thing from you.’

Yaz felt panic drop into her stomach like a stone. She was used to dealing with these kinds of people now. They always made what sounded like a reasonable offer that in fact turned out to be anything but. She was in trouble, but he had her friends. What could she do? Even the Doctor occasionally admitted she didn't have the answer to every problem, though it usually didn't take her long to figure it out. Yaz knew she was clever, but her own brain didn't work that quick.

‘What do you want?’ she tried instead, voice dry and words wavering now matter how hard she tried to sound confident.

‘What else would an immortal clockmaker want?’ the eternal shrugged, arms wide. ‘Time, of course. Yours in particular.’

‘Mine? You want to steal time from my future?’

‘How quaint,’ the Clockmaker chuckled. ‘No. Not your future. Your past. The last three years, to be exact.’

Yaz was terrified, though she didn't quite understand the implication of the Clockmaker’s request. But then, perhaps she did? Her palms were sweaty, her heart pounding so fast it felt as though it was about to beat straight out of her chest, and the Doctor's eyes were still fixed on her; perhaps a little more panic filled than they had been a moment ago, which was impressive considering.

‘You want the last three years of my life?’ Yaz said hesitantly. ‘I - I don’t understand.’

‘Of course you don’t, you’re my insignificant chess piece,’ the Clockmaker shrugged. ‘But yes. That’s what I want. In return, I’ll spare your friends.’

He crossed the room and, quick as a flash, removed a long thin blade from the sleeve of his robe. He held it up to the Doctor's throat, the light from the bulb above their heads catching the metal and making it shine. There was no hesitation in his eyes. Yaz knew he’d slice her throat here and now if she refused. 

‘All you have to do is wind this clock.’

With his free hand, he handed Yaz a simple alarm clock with a metal key in the back for winding it up. The clock hand was pointing at 3am. 

‘Wind it back to midnight and I’ll let her live,’ the Clockmaker said simply. 

Yaz was no fool. The last three years were some of the best and worst of her life so far. She’d met the Doctor for one thing, started off her travels in time and space with her new best friends, but the start of those three years had been a place of darkness for her, one she’d struggled to crawl out of. One she was terrified of falling back into. 

‘What will happen to me?’ Yaz asked quietly. 

‘You’ll go back three years and live them again,’ the Clockmaker shrugged. ‘Nothing will change, but these additional three years of time will belong to me.’

Yaz could spot a liar a mile off. Her entire body was screaming at her, her brain swirling with the possibilities, with the implications of what he was asking her to do. 

The blade dug into the Doctor's throat and a small droplet of blood ran down her neck, staining the dark pink of her rainbow-striped t-shirt. 

‘No! Don’t hurt her!’ Yaz cried, running forwards. 

‘Then wind the clock back,’ the Clockmaker said firmly. ‘Do as I say, and I give you my word your friends will be spared.’

It wasn’t just the Doctor's eyes fixed on Yaz’s now, it was Ryan’s and Graham’s. Her three friends were looking at her, silently begging her to not do it, but Yaz had no choice. She couldn’t stand there and watch them die knowing she could do something about it. 

The blade dug a little deeper into the pale skin of the Doctor's flesh and this time it was a thicker droplet of blood that dropped down onto her clothes. Yaz could see the pain in her eyes and she couldn’t bear it. How could anyone? 

Her fingers gripped the metal key and she wound back the clock three hours. 

Time slipped through her fingers, and her head spun as she had the sensation of suddenly falling backwards.

The Doctor screamed her name. 

* * *

_ Three years earlier - Sheffield _

Sonya Khan picked up her phone, hands shaking as she pressed the same three numbers and hit  _ call _ . Yaz’s coat and bag, which had been left draped over the sofa, were both gone and Sonya was no fool. She knew where her sister had gone, what she was planning on doing. She just hoped she wasn’t too late.

Four miles away, Officer Patel - responding to a phone call from a teenager worried about her older sister - blew a tyre after driving over nails that had been left lying in the road. She stepped out of the car, looking around for the culprit, but she was on a quiet country road and there was no-one around for miles. She took her radio out of her belt but there was no signal, no-one to call for backup.

In the Yorkshire Dales, Yasmin Khan sat alone by the side of the road. 

Millions of lightyears away, across time and space and galaxies and solar systems, the Doctor shot bolt upright, her head pounding as though it was splitting in two.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who left such lovely, supportive messages! 
> 
> Also, who else is NOT READY for the season finale. How has it been 10 episodes already??

_ ‘Urgh.’ _

The Doctor pressed her hands against either side of her head, eyes squeezed shut and jaw clenched as she tried to breathe through the agony. She’d ended up on the sofa again, a discarded book dropping from her knees to the floor. She really needed to stop falling asleep in here. Surely she had a much comfier bed somewhere that was more suited to that purpose.

The pain wasn’t easing and the Doctor was beginning to realise it was something more sinister than just a crooked neck from sleeping funny. She felt dizzy and nauseous, and she could hear her ship beeping urgently above her. Was she sick? Had she picked up a bug from somewhere?

She struggled off the sofa, staggering a little with her hand still pressed against her head as she headed towards the bathroom. She needed a glass of water and painkillers. Then maybe a proper sleep in a proper bed. She  _ hated  _ being sick, there was always so much stuff she needed to get done. 

_ Although,  _ she pondered once she’d finally made it to the bathroom and was rummaging through the cabinets searching for drugs,  _ this feels more like the time I accidentally ripped a hole in my timeline back in the academy. _

She paused, a small vial of purple pills in her hand as she considered the implications of this realisation. Luckily, at the time anyway, it had been quite easy to fix. Her professor had shown her how to repair it, she’d had a minor headache for a few days, and the Master had laughed at her for  _ weeks.  _

Before he was the Master, back when he was simply just her friend. 

‘Huh,’ the Doctor said out loud, face scronched. ‘But surely…  _ nah.  _ S’probably fine. I just need a nap.’

The TARDIS didn't sound convinced, but the Doctor could tell she had no idea what was going on either so she struggled to her bedroom, kicked off her shoes, and fell face first onto the bed.

* * *

She dreamt of space, of a vast galaxy shining in front of her. She was sitting in the doorway of the TARDIS, legs dangling down, cup of tea in her hands, and a woman with dark hair was sitting next to her; her eyes shining brightly as she took it all in.

‘Um, hi?’ the Doctor said, peering at her curiously. ‘Who are you?’

The woman gave her a strange look and reached out a hand to press against the Doctor’s forehead, the corners of her mouth crinkled in a frown. 

‘Are you feeling okay?’

‘How did you get in my TARDIS?’ the Doctor asked, thoroughly confused. The woman didn't seem to be a threat, but she’d appeared so suddenly and the Doctor had no idea where she’d come from. How had she gotten in? The TARDIS’ intruder alarm wasn’t going off, neither was the unauthorised teleport alarm. 

‘I’m Yaz, Doctor,’ the woman said.

‘Yaz…’

The name tasted like coffee granules, bitter and rancid in her mouth, and the Doctor could feel her head pounding as she looked at her; which was no mean feat in itself. Yaz’s timeline was ripped straight in half, cut down the middle neatly like scissors to paper. Ripped golden strands of time unravelled at either side of her and as the Doctor looked she saw she both was and  _ wasn’t  _ there. 

‘Doctor -’

Yaz reached out a hand, cupping it gently against the Doctor's cheek. She was warm and fizzes of temporal energy were crackling around her fingertips like wildfire. The Doctor found herself raising a hand to press against Yaz’s, feeling the heat of her skin and the softness of her hand. 

‘Please don’t forget me,’ Yaz whispered. ‘Promise me you won’t forget me.’

‘Forget you?’ the Doctor murmured. ‘Why would I -?’

She paused, raising her head as sharp eyes scanned their surroundings. She’d been so lost in Yaz’s face that she hadn’t realised they’d moved. The TARDIS was gone, as was the galaxy they’d been stargazing, and instead they were suddenly on a hill. It was windy and the Doctor's hair flew around her face, getting in the way. Why had she never considered a scrunchie? Below her was the view of a city, sprawling out in the valley, and she stood in the middle of a road; looking around in confusion. It was a beautiful day and as the Doctor turned she saw a younger Yaz sitting at the side of the road; long dark hair flying around her face, warm brown eyes looking up at her with a pleading expression. 

‘I’m waiting for you,’ Yaz whispered quietly. ‘Please don’t leave me here.’

Then the Doctor woke up and her headache was even worse than before. 

* * *

She spent the rest of the day trying and failing to take a nap. Every time she closed her eyes she’d see Yaz again. This mysterious woman seemed determined to haunt her dreams, and when the Doctor inevitably did decide to give up on sleeping she felt exhaustion pulling at her like a dead weight attached to her limbs. Her head pounded worse than before and the TARDIS dimmed all the lights to save her squinting as she stumbled through the corridors, grateful she wasn’t travelling with anyone at the moment who might see her in this state. She hadn’t travelled with anyone for months now. Bill had been the last person, but perhaps it was better that way. Look at what had happened to her. 

She ended up back in the library and dropped down heavily onto the sofa, pressing her face into her hands as she tried to will her headache into dissipating. Maintenance was out of the question, as was even attempting to do anything productive, and she was about to resign herself to sitting here in the dark when -

‘Couldn’t sleep?’

The Doctor blinked in surprise as she saw  _ herself  _ sat on the other end of the sofa. This other her was wearing a different outfit too, a red top with rainbow stripes, along with blue trousers and yellow suspenders. It was a  _ look. _

‘Nah, my head’s still buzzing.’

Another voice caught her attention and the Doctor realised that this other her was looking up at Yaz, stood in the doorway dressed in pajamas and yawning into her hand. The two of them hadn’t even seemed to notice that she was sitting there, and the Doctor watched as Yaz crossed the room and sat down next to the other her; grabbing a blanket from the back of the sofa and flinging it over her legs. 

‘Why are you still up? Thought you’d be snoring all night after all that leaping around.’

The other Doctor scoffed.

‘Leaping?’

‘Fine,  _ dancing,  _ or whatever you want to call it.’ 

The Doctor stared at Yaz, at this vibrant young woman who was conversing with another version of herself in such an easy going manner. She couldn’t work out if it was the past or the future she was seeing, it was all so jumbled up, and if she concentrated really hard then she couldn’t see either of them and the sofa was empty except for herself. 

‘Did you have a good night though?’ the other Doctor said with a grin, and Yaz nodded.

_ ‘Definitely.  _ I think Graham is going to regret it in the morning though. He was downing those Puri shots like it was going out of fashion.’

_ Graham.  _ The Doctor remembered a Graham. It had been her fault he’d lost his wife. 

The other Doctor winced. ‘Yeah, he’s not going to enjoy that one. I did try and warn him. Aren’t you tired?’

‘A little,’ Yaz admitted, tucking her feet up on the sofa. ‘I wanted to check on you first though. You’ve been a bit down in the dumps ever since the spy thing.’

The other Doctor pulled a face and Yaz poked her foot. 

‘I was also hoping you might read to me. That book on particle physics sent me right off last time. What are you reading now?’

‘Something equally as exciting,’ the other Doctor grinned. ‘A real page turner.  _ Principles of Trigonometry.’ _

Yaz burst out laughing and the sound warmed the Doctor's heart. Five minutes ago she probably couldn’t have explained why but now - watching her past and/or future self interact with Yaz - she knew exactly the reason.

‘Have you seriously not got anything else to read? A bit of non-fiction, maybe?’ Yaz teased. 

‘It’s  _ fascinating,  _ Yaz,’ the Doctor informed her. ‘Now come on, you gonna come in or not?’

The other Doctor stretched her legs out and Yaz shuffled up and pressed her body against the other Doctor’s side, resting her head against her shoulder and pulling the blanket up over her torso as the other Doctor started to read in a quiet, gentle voice.

‘ Trigonometric ratios can also be represented using the unit circle, which is the circle of radius 1 centered at the origin in the plane…’

The Doctor blinked and they were suddenly both gone. 

* * *

‘There has to be some records,’ the Doctor told her TARDIS a short while later, an ice pack pressed against a headache that just wasn’t getting better, no matter how many painkillers she swallowed. ‘She was  _ real.’ _

The TARDIS pinged in the negative and the Doctor sighed.

‘Temporal events are always so  _ painful,’  _ she grumbled, feeling condensation from the ice pack drip down her hand. ‘Fine. I’m gonna have to find her the old fashioned way. Hold on old girl, this isn’t gonna be much fun for either of us.’

She put the ice pack down and picked up the cradle for the TARDIS’ telepathic circuits, gingerly placing the crown-like device over her head. If she thought her headache was bad now, this wasn’t going to make it any better. 

‘Alright,’ the Doctor said, taking a deep breath. ‘Let’s do this.’

She squeezed her eyes shut and pictured Yaz. Her dark hair, her brown eyes, her warm smile. She thought about the hill, the wind that had swirled around her, the teenager sat alone at the side of the road clutching a large fluffy coat. 

The TARDIS lurched and the engines began to thrum, the dematerialisation circuit kicking in as the ship found something and hurled them towards it. The Doctor tore the crown from her head and hung onto the console as the TARDIS practically threw itself through the time vortex. Wherever it was they were going, they were going to get there quickly. 

When the  _ bong  _ had indicated they’d landed, the Doctor straightened up and grabbed her brown jacket; shrugging it on as she cautiously opened the door and peered outside. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting, temporal events were messy and never seemed to end well, but they’d landed in a - 

Graveyard?

The Doctor stepped outside, pulling the TARDIS doors shut as she turned her face towards the sun. They were on Earth, late spring, Sheffield judging by the vague scent of steel in the air, and the graveyard was peaceful and well maintained. She began to slowly walk along the path, unsure what she was looking for. The TARDIS had brought her here so it must in some way relate to this mysterious Yaz, but the last time the Doctor had gone to Sheffield she’d crashed through a train after regenerating and that hadn’t ended well. 

‘Excuse me,’ she called out to a gardener, busy pulling up weeds at the side of the path. ‘I’m looking for someone. I was wondering if you could help me. Is there anyone here called Yaz?’

The gardener stood, brushing dirt covered hands against his overalls. 

‘Well, that depends,’ he said softly. ‘There is a Yaz here, but she’s a resident rather than a volunteer. Is that who you’re looking for?’

‘Maybe,’ the Doctor said quietly. She felt a tear drip down her face and she frowned, wiping it away quickly with the back of her hand. Why was she crying?

‘She’s up there, love,’ the gardener said, pointing to a little path that led to a tree on top of a hill. ‘You want me to show you?’

‘No, no it’s okay,’ the Doctor said quickly. She suddenly felt as though this was something she wanted to do alone, though she couldn’t say why. She had plenty of ghosts haunting her, but this particular one seemed to hurt more than the others. 

It was peaceful on the top of the hill and a gentle breeze was blowing through the air, rustling the leaves on the trees and sending the ones on the ground swirling and flying up with the wind. 

The Doctor could see the headstone the gardener had told her to look for already, perfectly positioned under the tree and facing the afternoon sun. She knelt down in front of it, noting the fresh flowers and photographs, and reached out a hand; pausing just before touching the words engraved on the stone as a chill swept over her and she shuddered. She would have said it was like someone was stepping over her grave, but that was eerily accurate considering. 

_ Yasmin Khan. Daughter, Sister, Friend. Indeed, to God we belong and to God we shall return. _

‘Yaz,’ the Doctor whispered, feeling tears trickle from the corners of her eyes to fall down her face and land on the grass below, though she couldn’t explain why she suddenly found herself crying. She lifted one of the photos. It displayed a happy teenager, long dark hair curled around a warm, gentle face. Soft, dark eyes gazed at her and the Doctor tilted her head as she took in the image of the girl from her dreams; not as imaginary as she’d first suspected. Her hearts were tugging, pulling uncomfortably in her chest and she suddenly felt an almost overwhelming urge to start sobbing.

‘Hello?’ 

The Doctor turned and found an older woman standing a few feet away, a bouquet of roses in her hands. She looked like a older version of the woman in the photo, and judging by her uncertain gaze and confused expression the Doctor realised this must be - 

‘Yaz’s mum.’

‘It’s Najia,’ Yaz’s mum corrected. ‘Can I help you? Did you know my daughter?’

‘I must have done,’ the Doctor said, more to herself than Najia Khan. ‘I’ve been dreaming about her.’

‘I beg your pardon?’

The Doctor looked at her, saw her worried expression. Time pulled at her again and she felt an uneasy wave of sickness that made her want to retch into the grass as two realities tugged at her. 

_ Are you two seeing each other? You can’t be president if you fire Yaz’s mum.  _

‘You made a very awesome human,’ the Doctor whispered to the dirt beneath her hands. 

‘Yes,’ Najia agreed sadly. ‘I certainly think so.’

The Doctor picked up another photo, of Yaz and a younger girl who must be -

_ Is she paying you? _

‘Sonya.’

‘My youngest,’ Najia said cautiously. ‘I’m sorry, did you say you knew my daughter or not?’

‘I did,’ the Doctor said, forehead crinkled as she tried to concentrate. ‘I’m sure I did. I must have done. I have all these  _ memories  _ in my head but they make no sense. Like the spider thing! What happened there? Did we stop them or didn't we?’

‘If you’re talking about the toxic waste disaster all the spiders eventually died when they grew too large,’ Najia said, eyes narrowed in distrust. ‘They killed a good few hundred people first though, and the hotel that was built over the old mining land was destroyed so they could burn the refuse. There was a black cloud over Sheffield for months.’

‘No,’ the Doctor said, shaking her head. ‘I remember it differently. Yaz, if it  _ was  _ Yaz, went to get you from work and you found one of the rooms covered in cobwebs. I was -’ She frowned, hands pressed either side of her temple as she tried to fight her way through sharp strands of time to access the memory. The closer she got to it the further away she was and eventually she gave up, dropping her hands to her sides and keeping her eyes fixed on the photo of Yasmin Khan.

‘We can’t have a universe with no Yaz,’ the Doctor said eventually. ‘I told her that, I’m sure I did.’

‘Love,’ Najia said, with the tone of one who recognised they may be in danger but still wanted to try and do the right thing. ‘Are you alright? Are you on something? It’s alright to tell me, I won’t judge. I just want to make sure you’re okay.’

‘I’m not okay,’ the Doctor said, hands pressed against her eyes. ‘Yaz is gone and it’s my fault. I was supposed to protect her but I let her down.’

‘Sweetheart,’ Najia said gently, slowly kneeling down beside her as she realised this woman was as far from a threat as it was possible to be. ‘Yasmin… she took her own life. Three years ago. You had nothing to do with her death.’

‘No,’ the Doctor said, eyes wide as she shook her head frantically. ‘No, she wouldn’t. She  _ wouldn’t.  _ Not my Yaz, she loved living, she  _ loved  _ it.’

‘I thought so too,’ Najia said, her voice cracking. ‘But I guess you never truly know what’s going on inside someone’s head, do you?’ She laid the flowers down in front of Yasmin’s headstone, picking up the old ones to take away with her. ‘I just wish I could reverse the clock, go back in time to find out what was really going on.’

‘Clock?’

The Doctor froze, eyes fixed on the image of Yaz in the photo frame as images pushed themselves into her head. She saw herself standing in a room beside Yaz, a large man in brown robes stood opposite them. She was frozen, unable to move as Yaz spoke to the man. Dimly, she heard Najia’s voice but she ignored her; focusing on the images as she tried to get through.

She saw Yaz’s eyes looking into her own. Warm, brown, desperate. 

The Doctor closed her eyes, brow furrowing as she tried to wade through time so thick and unyielding it was like treacle. She knew an alternate universe when she saw one. 

She saw the man press a knife against her throat, heard him call himself  _ Clockmaker,  _ heard his bargain with Yaz. 

Pain splintered into her skull but she kept pushing. The man had mentioned two other people: Eternals. Apparently she’d had something to do with them but what?  _ What? _

Her progression through time was slower and she was struggling not to sink as she shoved aside broken strands of memory, ripped edges of timelines, and pushed herself further. It felt as though she was stuck between two timelines, both running alongside one another, both damaged. It was like trying to squeeze her way through a narrow alleyway with the brick walls closing in on either side and when the Doctor finally pushed herself into the memory the Clockmaker had mentioned she understood what had happened, realisation slamming into her like a freight train.

She ripped herself away, out of the alternate timeline and back into the present one; though her mind was so frazzled she fancied she could still see them both in her head as they twisted and warped and tugged at her. If she was on speaking terms with Gallifrey she could ask them for help with repairing it, but as it was she’d have to struggle through alone.

If Gallifrey even still existed. There was something dark and sinister in that alternate timeline she was too frightened to investigate. 

‘Are you alright?’

Najia’s hand was gripping her shoulder tightly, grounding her back to the quiet graveyard as the whistle of birdsong sounded through the trees. The Doctor felt exhausted.

‘Clock,’ the Doctor whispered, her own voice sounding far away.  _ ‘Time.  _ Najia! You’re a genius! Yaz didn't take her own life, the Clockmaker manipulated her!  _ Urgh  _ I’m such an  _ idiot.’ _

Najia looked utterly confused and she could only sit and watch as this mysterious woman sitting at her daughter’s grave put her hands in her hair, forehead creased, expression one of immense concentration. 

‘It didn't work,’ the Doctor said quietly, realisation dawning on her face. ‘Of course it didn't, it  _ can’t  _ have done! Even a being as all powerful and celestial as the Clockmaker can’t fight against time itself! The good we’ve done, the people we’ve saved, the planets and people and  _ galaxies  _ that still exist because of us - because of Yaz! Paradoxes upon paradoxes. He didn't erase her from history, he  _ created an alternate timeline.  _ Not even that! If Yaz’s timeline was a measuring tape, one of those paper ones you get in DIY shops, he literally ripped it in half but the other half is still out there! It still exists! _ ’ _ She dropped her head to Yaz’s gravestone, reaching out to trace her fingers across the letters carved into the rock. 

‘You’re making no sense,’ Najia told her warily. ‘Are you sure there isn’t anyone I can call for you?’

‘The only person I’d want to speak to is right here,’ the Doctor replied, pressing her head against the stone and closing her eyes. ‘I’m sorry, Yaz. I failed you.’

Najia knelt in the dirt at her daughter’s grave and laid a gentle hand on the Doctor's shoulder. 

‘No,’ she said to her softly. ‘I failed her. It was my responsibility as her mother to keep her safe and I didn't, I let her down.’

‘Yaz’s mum,’ the Doctor said quietly, reaching up with her own hand to squeeze the one on her shoulder. ‘You didn't let her down. The universe did. And I swear to whoever is listening right now that I am going to make it right. I  _ swear  _ to you, I am going to restore the timeline and bring back your daughter.’

She stood, dirt and grass falling from her clothes as she rummaged in the pockets of her jacket before removing her sonic screwdriver. She pointed it at Yaz’s grave, the tip glowing orange for a moment as it scanned, before holding it up in front of her face and peering intently at the results displayed. 

‘I’ve just got to find her first,’ she whispered. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THAT FINALE THOUGH. I'M STILL NOT OVER IT :D

Graham O’Brien stood in his kitchen and waited for the kettle to boil as he looked out the window into his garden. It was a beautiful day and the tulip bulbs he’d planted months back were just beginning to bloom. He reached into the cupboard for the tea bags, realising he’d accidentally grabbed two mugs as opposed to just the one for himself. Old habits and all that.

He put Grace’s mug back in the cupboard, and poured himself a cuppa.

It had been months since he’d lost his wife, yet it was a constant ache in his heart. Ryan had been amazing, but he had his own life to lead and more often than not Graham found himself pottering around the house or wandering through town trying to keep himself occupied. When he was busy, he found the grief didn't sit so heavily in his chest, but it was becoming harder and harder to keep busy these days. Sometimes, Graham longed for a bit of excitement. 

He was just about to sit down in his favourite armchair and put the quiz shows on when the doorbell rang, harsh and urgent in the otherwise quiet afternoon, and Graham frowned and put down his mug. He wasn’t expecting visitors, though he supposed it could be the postman with a parcel for Ryan. His old bus driver mates popped round every now and then to check on him, though they usually warned him when they were about to come round, and his elderly next door neighbour came over every Tuesday evening to watch Countdown with him. 

It was Thursday though and the middle of the afternoon, so couldn’t be her.

The doorbell rang again, the person on the other side of it not letting go of the buzzer for a good few seconds this time, and Graham got up to answer it with a muttered ‘alright hold your horses I’m coming.’

He was glad he’d put his mug down, because he was pretty sure he would have dropped it when he saw the figure on his doorstep.

‘Doctor?’

It had been a long time since he’d seen her last, yet she looked almost exactly the same as when they’d first met; though she’d finally gotten out of the raggedy clothes she’d been wearing. Now she was wearing black skinny trousers, a grey shirt, and a brown waistcoat with a darker brown bomber jacket over the top. It was very steampunk, and matched with a pair of old battered brown boots it really suited her.

‘Hiya, Graham,’ she said, twisting her fingers anxiously. 

‘You look…’

Well, judging by her pale skin and the dark circles under her eyes,  _ awful  _ was probably the right word, but Graham was far too polite to point it out to her. That, and he was in shock from her sudden arrival. He’d honestly thought he’d never see her again.

‘Can I come in?’ the Doctor asked hopefully, words a little slurred. ‘I need to talk to you about something.’

‘Yeah, yeah of course,’ Graham stammered, holding open the door as the Doctor stumbled inside. Her co-ordination was off,  _ well  _ off, more so than when they’d first met on the train all those months ago, and Graham almost wanted to hold his hands out behind her in case she fell.

The Doctor sank down onto his living room sofa and sighed, eyes sliding shut immediately. 

‘This sofa,’ she mumbled. ‘Is proper comfy.’

‘I’ll put the kettle on,’ Graham said, but he needn’t have bothered as when he emerged with another cup of tea she was fast asleep.

* * *

She dreamt of the hill again, a cold wind blowing her hair as the city stretched out below her.

‘Are you coming to find me?’ Yasmin asked her, blinking up at her with helplessly vulnerable young eyes. 

‘I’m trying, Yaz,’ the Doctor said, kneeling down in front of her. ‘Hold tight, don’t give up.’

‘It would be much easier to,’ Yaz whispered, looking down at her hands.

‘It always is,’ the Doctor said softly, reaching out to place a hand on her arm. ‘But that doesn’t mean you should.’

Yaz looked up at her again, and the dream faded. 

* * *

When she woke up, Ryan was looking at her with a lopsided grin on his face.

‘Hey,’ she mumbled, sitting herself up on the sofa. At some point someone, likely Graham, had covered her with a blanket and the sunny afternoon had faded to black. Her headache was still there but it had lessened, as though the presence of two old friends had eased it somehow.

Yaz flickered in front of her face, smiling at her from the fireplace, then she disappeared again as time continued to unravel before her eyes.

‘Dinner,’ Graham announced, putting a plate in front of her. ‘Eat up, love. You look like you’ve been running yourself ragged. Ryan, stop staring at her.’

‘Hey, Doctor,’ Ryan said with a smile. ‘It’s good to see you.’

‘Is it?’

She looked down at the plate of food Graham had presented her with. It looked like fish and vegetables in some kind of creamy sauce. Not her usual meal, but she was suddenly starving and wasn’t going to be picky. She was also amazed Graham was being so kind to her, considering what had happened the last time she’d dropped into their lives, and she felt so grateful she wondered if she was about to cry.

‘I thought we weren’t going to get to see you again,’ Ryan said with warm eyes. ‘Did you ever find your ship in the end?’

‘Yeah, got teleported into space first though,’ the Doctor replied around a mouthful of vegetables. She wasn’t really a fan of vegetables, but equally she also couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a proper meal. 

‘I can’t believe you’re really here, Doc,’ Graham said, chuckling fondly. ‘Honestly I was starting to wonder if I’d made the whole thing up. Except… well. You know.’

His eyes turned towards a picture of Grace on the mantelpiece and the Doctor followed them sadly. She’d always felt guilty about that, shooting off immediately after the funeral, but it wasn’t as though she hadn’t done it hundreds of times before.

‘Why are you here?’ Ryan asked with a frown. ‘Are we in trouble? Are there more teeth aliens around?’

‘No, not teeth aliens,’ the Doctor said, brow furrowed. ‘I don’t think so anyway. I came here cause I needed to ask you both something. Something important. Something so important that your answer could literally change the fabric of history so I  _ really  _ need you to concentrate.’

Two sets of determined eyes nodded at her. 

‘Do you remember Yaz?’ the Doctor asked nervously, and the colour drained from Graham and Ryan’s faces.

‘Yaz?’ Ryan mumbled. His face was creased, his eyes far away, and his hands were digging into the side of the sofa cushion. 

‘I - I’m not sure, Doc,’ Graham said, a hand going to his head. She didn't blame him. Temporal headaches were bad enough for Time Lords, humans likely had no idea how to deal with them at all.

‘Try not to push,’ she urged them. ‘Not knowing is fine for me.’

‘What’s wrong with my head?’ Ryan asked her, fingers rubbing at his temples. ‘It feels…’

‘I said  _ don’t  _ push,’ the Doctor cried, throwing herself up from the sofa and darting to Ryan’s side, fingers pressed tightly against his head as she tried to remove his headache. Her own head was pounding something awful but she pushed through it, relaxing the neurons in Ryan’s brain that were firing out of control at the mention of a name which had clearly struck a chord. 

‘I don’t understand,’ Graham said, confused. ‘Who’s Yaz?’

‘A blip,’ the Doctor explained. ‘An accident. Obviously she’s more than that to the three of us but in time right now, she’s the equivalent of that annoying pebble that sneaks its way into your shoe. You can’t get it out, but it doesn’t half hurt.’

‘That metaphor didn't help, Doc,’ Graham said, rubbing his eyes. 

‘Didn't it?’ She looked disappointed. ‘I thought that was a pretty succinct summary.’ 

‘There was a Yaz at my primary school,’ Ryan remembered. ‘Yasmin Khan.’

‘That’s the one,’ the Doctor said, rubbing her face tiredly. ‘Something’s happened to her. Something bad. It’s like time has ripped in half.’ 

‘You’re looking a bit peaky, Doc,’ Graham said, as calmly as he could. ‘More so than last time. And that’s saying something considering last night you were barfing up gold stuff.’ 

‘I can see both timelines,’ the Doctor told him, hands pressed against her eyes. ‘It’s becoming harder to keep the one I’m currently in stuck in my head. I keep seeing Yaz but also you two. We’re all together in my TARDIS, traveling the universe, but it  _ really hurts.’  _

Too late, she realised she was falling forwards but Ryan was there to catch her and he shoved her back against the sofa; a hand on her shoulder keeping her steady. As she pulled her hands away from her face, she realised they were shaking. 

‘You’re making a habit of this, Doctor,’ Ryan said. ‘So what do we do? How do we help Yaz?’

‘She was manipulated by an eternal known as the Clockmaker into taking her own life,’ the Doctor said, and Ryan’s face turned grey. ‘If I can just find the moment that happened, the moment that idea in her head became a reality - a fixed point -, I might be able to fix it and undo what the Clockmaker’s done.’

‘And if not?’ Graham asked, sounding worried.

‘Then Yaz will stay dead and time will continue to unravel,’ the Doctor said miserably. ‘That won’t be an issue for you lot, you’ll carry on living. Me, on the other hand, I’ll go mad. Eventually it’ll kill me.’

‘We can’t have that,’ Graham told her firmly. ‘Tell us what to do, Doc. We owe you -’

_ ‘No you don’t.’  _

The words came out a little harsher than she’d meant them to and the Doctor dropped her head down to her chest, closing her eyes and breathing heavily. 

‘You owe me nothing,’ she murmured quietly. ‘Especially after what happened with Grace.’

‘Hey, nan made her own decision,’ Ryan said softly. ‘You had nothing to do with that. You told her to get out, she didn't.’

‘I take innocent people and fashion them into weapons,’ the Doctor mumbled, time splintering under her fingertips. ‘The more I travel, the more people I meet, the more I realise that’s true.’ 

‘You make people want to be more than they are,’ Graham said, a hand on her elbow. ‘That’s not a bad thing, Doc. And we’re not mad, we’re actually really happy to see you again. Even considering the circumstances.’ 

She looked up at them through wide eyes brimming with tears of pain. Her head was pounding and she was finding it harder and harder to stay conscious. She needed to sleep, to organise the day’s events and the timelines whilst unconscious, but she was worried Yaz would slip away from her if she did. 

‘I can’t believe Yaz would kill herself,’ Ryan said quietly. ‘She was always so full of life.’

‘Everyone always is, until they’re not,’ Graham murmured, and the Doctor slid onto the floor. 

* * *

‘You should have said you weren’t feeling well.’

‘I’m feeling fine.’

The Doctor sneezed, loudly and with gusto, and Yaz raised an eyebrow at her. 

‘This is normal,’ the Doctor mumbled into the pillow, and Yaz smiled as she ran her fingers soothingly through soft blonde hair. 

‘You’re burning up,’ Yaz said softly. ‘Please tell me this is just a cold and not some horrible alien virus.’

‘Guess we’ll find out in the morning,’ the Doctor muttered pathetically. ‘I’ll either be dead or better.’

_ ‘Doctor.’ _

‘I’m joking!’ the Doctor protested, opening her eyes to find Yaz looking at her with concern. ‘I’ll either be better or a brand new person if I end up regenerating.’

_ ‘Doctor!’ _

‘S’fine, Yaz,’ the Doctor said, smiling woozily up at her through fever-bright eyes. ‘Even ancient aliens get ill after being dunked in a freezing cold river twice.’

‘I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to you,’ Yaz murmured. ‘You’re my best friend, you know that right?’

The Doctor said nothing, too busy enjoying the sensation of cool hands brushing against her forehead to really contemplate Yaz’s words, and Yaz pulled the duvet a little higher up around her friend when another violent shudder wracked her small frame.

‘I’m staying with you tonight,’ Yaz told her - a statement rather than a question - as she wriggled down the bed and picked up a book. ‘Let me know if you think you’re gonna regurgitate or whatever.’

‘Regenerate,’ the Doctor mumbled. 

‘That too. Now hush, it’s my turn to repay the favour.’

As the Doctor slowly drifted off to the sound of Yaz’s gentle voice, she decided she only preferred fiction books at bedtime when Yaz was reading them. 

* * *

When she woke up she was feverish and Ryan had a cold flannel pressed against her forehead. 

‘Looking rough,’ he told her quietly. ‘Whatever it is we need to do to save Yaz, we need to do it fast.’

‘What time is it?’ she mumbled, struggling up on the sofa. Early morning sunshine was streaming through the window and she could smell toast coming from the kitchen.

‘Just gone 7,’ Ryan said. ‘Graham’s cooking breakfast. Bathroom’s free.’

‘You trying to tell me something?’ the Doctor grumbled, shivering under the blanket they’d wrapped her in.

‘You might want to splash some water on your face, that’s all,’ Ryan told her, not unkindly. ‘I’ve found the address of the flat Yaz’s family lives in. Maybe they’ll be able to tell us when that - what was it you said? -  _ fixed point  _ was.’

When the Doctor saw her face in the mirror, she understood Ryan’s concern. 

Her hair was limp around her face, skin pale, large dark shadows under her eyes. Her lips were cracked and her eyes were red. She looked like she’d been on a bender for the past few weeks. 

She bent down over the sink, splashing her face with shaking hands. She felt as though she was on a ship, rocking from side to side. The past pulled at her one way, the future the other. It was as though they were both fighting for her attention and neither were planning on giving her up any time soon.

The Doctor dropped down onto the floor, head pounding, body aching, chest hurting. The anguish she’d felt at Yaz’s grave had flared back up at the knowledge that she might never see her again. A woman she barely remembered, who existed only in her dreams and in memories of fragmented time, yet the Doctor was desperate to find her again and felt her loss so deeply in her soul it was as though she was an extension of herself. 

She struggled back up to her feet, feeling the weakness in her limbs as she did so. Time would continue to tug at her until it inevitably succeeded in ripping her apart. She needed to find Yaz and repair the broken timeline. She had an idea of how to do it, but it wouldn’t be worth a damn if she couldn’t find the fixed point that had been created by the Clockmaker.

‘I’ve been showing you,’ Yaz said quietly. 

The Doctor blinked as suddenly Graham’s bathroom faded from behind her and she was back on the hill, the cold wind rustling her hair, the sun shining over the city below. 

Yaz reached out a hand to clasp the Doctor's, her eyes dull and face pale. 

‘I’m here,’ she said quietly. ‘This is where you need to find me.’

‘Where is here?’ the Doctor begged her, gripping Yaz’s arm tightly. ‘And when? Tell me?’

‘Find my sister,’ Yaz whispered as darkness crept in around the edges of the Doctor's vision. ‘Find Sonya. Tell her I’m sorry. Tell her I love her.’

‘Yaz…’

‘Then come and get me.’

Yaz faded from view and the Doctor dropped to the bathroom floor in a boneless heap.


	4. Chapter 4

‘... Doc, come on love.’

‘Is there anyone we can call for her?’

‘Don’t know, Ryan. Doc, sit up for me. That’s it, you’re alright.’

The Doctor’s head lolled against the bathroom wall as Graham carefully pulled her up into a sitting position. Her skin was grey and clammy and when Graham pressed his fingers against her wrist he found irregular twin pulses thrumming weakly under her skin. Her face crinkled, forehead creasing, and Graham placed his hand carefully against her cheek. 

‘She’s burning up. Grab me a wet flannel, Ryan.’

‘Bill?’

The Doctor's eyes flickered, opening a fraction to look at Graham through a haze of confusion. Her eyes were bright, hands moving in agitation, and Graham took the proffered flannel from Ryan and pressed it carefully against the side of her neck.

‘No, Doc. Graham. You’re in my house. On the bathroom floor, to be more exact.’

‘Oh. Oh yeah.’

‘Here, drink this,’ Ryan said, pressing a glass of water into her hands. ‘Is this cause of Yaz? Is it making you ill?’

The Doctor nodded mutely as she drained the glass, and Ryan quickly poured her another. 

‘Temporality Distortion Sickness,’ she mumbled, rubbing her face. ‘A polite way of saying _slow descent into madness._ I need to find Yaz and fix the timeline quickly, before it’s too late for either of us.’

‘Take your time, love,’ Graham said gently, helping her hold the glass as her hands shook. ‘We’re here for you. We’ll help you.’

‘Why do you even still want to be near me after what I did to Grace?’ the Doctor mumbled, eyes feverish. 

‘You didn't do anything, Doc,’ Graham told her softly. ‘Nothing at all. Grace knew the risks. We _all_ knew the risks. She was a wonderful woman. Caring, kind, compassionate. Just like you, I reckon, and she couldn’t stand by and watch a young man be murdered by a guy with a face full of teeth any more than you could.’ 

‘Yaz was there,’ the Doctor said, staring into the corner of the room as a solitary tear dripped down her face. ‘She climbed the crane with Ryan. She - we -’ She dropped her head, fingers playing with the cuff of her shirt. ‘We went clothes shopping together.’ 

‘Is there anything we can get for you?’ Ryan asked, anxious to help in some way. ‘Any drugs? We’ve got paracetamol somewhere.’

‘No, s’fine,’ the Doctor mumbled, pulling a small packet of pills out of her pocket and popping two on her tongue. ‘The TARDIS made me these. It’ll hold back the symptoms for a bit. Hopefully long enough for me to find Yaz. Where did you say her family lived?’

* * *

It was bitterly cold outside and windy. The early morning sunshine had faded to a grey, cloud filled sky and the Doctor shivered as the three of them stepped outside. She felt a little less feverish, though the persistent ache in her head hadn’t gone anywhere and they walked in silence as Ryan led the way. 

It was when they walked past the TARDIS, parked at the end of the street, that Graham and Ryan faltered. 

‘That looks familiar,’ Ryan said, forehead creasing.

‘Don’t look at it too long,’ the Doctor said urgently, ushering them along. ‘You guys are at the centre of the crack in time. You’re not susceptible to temporality distortion illnesses, but you can still get - uh - time sick.’

‘Time sick?’ Graham questioned. 

‘The ripples don’t affect you the same way they affect me, but they can give you a nasty headache,’ the Doctor hurriedly explained, dragging them out of sight of the blue box. 

‘Like last night,’ Ryan realised. ‘When you asked about - _argh.’_

He pressed a hand to his forehead and the Doctor quickly replaced it with her own, feeling a shudder as she smoothed over the quantum fluctuation in his mind. Her hand shook as she pulled it away and she shoved it into the pocket of her coat. 

‘Don’t think about it,’ she said quietly. ‘And let me talk to Yaz’s sister. It’s best you two stay out of it as much as you can.’ 

‘You’re ill, Doc,’ Graham protested. ‘You have to let us help you.’

‘You are helping me,’ the Doctor said. ‘Just the two of you being here is helping me.’

That wasn’t completely true. In fact the two of them being there was making it harder for the Doctor to stick to the correct timeline, but the knowledge that - somewhere out there - these two men were her best friends was making her feel a little less alone.

‘This is it,’ Ryan said, nodding up at the block of flats in front of them. ‘They live at number 34. **’**

‘Great work, Ryan,’ the Doctor said. ‘You two stay here. I’ll speak to Sonya and see what I can find out, then I’ll be able to go after Yaz.’

‘Are you sure, Doc?’ Graham asked with a worried expression. ‘You still look poorly.’

‘The sooner we get this done the sooner I’ll feel better,’ the Doctor reassured him. ‘Trust me. Please?’

‘Always,’ Ryan said, and the Doctor turned away from them and headed towards the stairs, trying to ignore the image of the TARDIS that flickered in and out in her peripheries. A remnant of an alternate timeline that was now in tatters.

* * *

Sonya Khan was, understandably, confused when she opened the door and found a woman swaying uncertainly on the other side. She was also, understandably, very reluctant to let the woman in; especially considering she looked as though she was about to pass out on her doorstep.

‘Quick five minutes,’ the Doctor begged. ‘Please. I’m a friend of Yaz’s and I recently found out about what happened to her.’ 

‘How do you know my sister?’ Sonya asked with distrust. ‘You’re like thirty.’

‘Yeah, thirty. Let’s go with that. I used to - um - teach her.’

‘Teach her what?’

‘... history?’

‘You’re a terrible liar.’

‘No, wait!’   
The Doctor shot her foot out before Sonya could close the door, catching it against her boot. 

‘I’m sorry,’ the Doctor said softly. ‘This is going to hurt, but I need you to understand that I’m not here to hurt you. I really just want to help Yaz.’

She reached out and grabbed Sonya’s hand. 

Seconds later, Sonya gasped and stumbled back with a hand pressed against her head. 

‘You - you’re -’

‘An alien from outer space who’s best friends with an alternate reality version of your sister? Yeah. Pretty much.’

‘There’s a reality where… where…’ Sonya swallowed hard past the lump in her throat. ‘Where my sister is still alive?’

‘Yes,’ the Doctor said gently. ‘There’s a reality where your sister is magnificent.’

‘She always was,’ Sonya said quietly, standing aside so the Doctor could come in. 

Entering the Khan’s flat was harder than the Doctor would thought it would be, and she had to blink back a wash of nausea as two timelines struggled against each other in front of her eyes. One, where she was alone with Sonya, and another where Sonya was flirting with Ryan while Yaz told her her smalltalk needed work. There were numerous photos of Yaz dotted around the flat and the Doctor found she had to look away when hundreds of timelines threatened to merge into one.

‘What do you need to know?’ Sonya asked, sitting down on the sofa and hugging a cushion tightly to her chest. 

‘Yaz died three years ago, right?’ the Doctor asked, and Sonya nodded silently. ‘Can you tell me what the turning point was? What changed?’

‘It was an exam result,’ Sonya remembered. ‘She wouldn’t show mum and dad. They got mad at her, started yelling. That night I heard her crying. Then in the morning she grabbed her stuff and walked out.’

‘You know the day?’

‘I’ll never forget it. April 3rd.’ Sonya dropped her head down to her chest, fingers tugging at the material of her jumper. ‘It was so uncharacteristic of her,’ she whispered quietly. ‘That’s how I knew something was up. I phoned the police but…’

The Doctor reached out a hand to hold Sonya’s, squeezing tightly as they sat in silence together. Sonya sniffed and wiped her eyes, voice thick and hands shaking. 

‘They next day the police showed up at the flat, said they’d found -’

She broke off and pressed her hands against her eyes, crying quietly, and the Doctor felt her hearts breaking. It made her furious to think that something so trivial as an exam result, something so meaningless in the grand scheme of things, could upset someone so much due to all the pressure and importance placed upon it. She remembered her own time at the Academy, the emphasis that had been put on academic performance. There were more important things to be focusing on, though she could understand why for some people a poor grade was the end of the world.

Time tugged at her again and she felt sick.

‘Do you really think you can save her?’ Sonya asked. 

‘I have to try,’ the Doctor replied, looking down at her hands. ‘I definitely owe her at least that.’ 

‘Are you okay?’ Sonya asked cautiously, head tilted. ‘You look… ill.’

‘I’ll be fine,’ the Doctor mumbled, standing up on aching limbs. ‘I just need to find Yaz, or rather I need to find where she _was._ But I think I know that already, she’s been showing me.’

‘What?’

Sonya looked confused and the Doctor smiled reassuringly at her. 

‘It’ll be alright,’ she said softly. ‘Trust me.’

* * *

She knew she must be looking worse based purely on the expressions of Graham and Ryan, who both stood up anxiously as soon as they saw her stumbling back outside; the wind whipping her hair around her face as the first few drops of rain splashed against the thin material of her coat. 

‘Any joy?’ Ryan asked anxiously. 

‘Yeah, I’ve got a date,’ the Doctor said, shrugging off their supportive hands as she headed back towards the TARDIS. ‘That’s all I need to find Yaz.’

‘And fix the timeline, right, Doc?’ Graham checked.

‘Hopefully,’ the Doctor said. She turned to them, expression set in one of concentration. Even with sweat on her brow and black shadows under her glassy eyes she looked just as determined as she had all those months ago facing down Tim Shaw. 

‘You two stay here,’ she said firmly. ‘I can’t risk you suffering temporal degradation in the TARDIS. I’ll go find Yaz and, if I’m successful, we’ll see each other very soon.’

Her tone was firm though her eyes were pleading and Graham nodded sadly. He couldn’t think of anything worse than letting her go off on her own, the weight on the universe on her shoulders once more, but he and Ryan would only get in the way. 

‘Be careful, Doctor,’ Ryan urged her quietly, and she nodded at him with a sad smile. 

Graham watched her turn and walk away, shoulders hunched against the rain and feet wobbling a little as she headed back up the street. He hoped this wouldn’t be the last time he saw her again. 

The Doctor felt their eyes on her back as she struggled onwards, trying not to trip over her feet. She shook under her jacket though she knew it wasn’t from the cold, and time splintered in her head. On one side of her was a sunny day, but the other was grey and miserable and she tried to focus on the feel of the rain against her forehead as she half fell inside her TARDIS.

‘Alright old girl, I’ve got a date for you,’ she said, programming it into the console before lifting the telepathic circuit crown from its cradle and fitting it neatly on her head. ‘Here’s the location. I know you can do it.’

She closed her eyes, focusing hard on the image of Yaz sitting alone on the hill, and felt time wrenching at her so strongly she barely noticed the TARDIS moving. She gripped onto the console, fighting back against the wave of nausea that slammed into her, and dropped to her hands and knees when the TARDIS finally lurched to a stop, the helmet falling from her head and landing on the floor beside her. 

The TARDIS was still and she looked up, blinking through tears of pain. 

Through those doors was Yaz. 

Hopefully. 

She opened the doors, and the wind ruffled her hair. 

Yasmin Khan looked up at her.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! I had serious writer's block and self doubt, it's a lethal combination! 
> 
> I hope everyone's staying safe at the moment <3 <3

‘You have no idea how happy I am to see you,’ the Doctor said, a torrent of emotions fighting and bubbling in her chest. She felt her feet moving her forward, heard the door of the TARDIS close behind her, breathed in the crisp smell of burning timelines and wiped the dust and tears from her eyes. Yaz sat before her, eyebrow raised, smile soft, hair blowing around her face. 

‘You look rough.’

‘Thanks,’ the Doctor mumbled, sitting down beside her and rubbing her eyes again. ‘You’re not looking too good either.’ She longed to rest her head on Yaz’s shoulder, to feel her soft and alive against her body, but knew she couldn’t. Time was in flux right now but it also wasn’t. The Clockmaker’s trick had created a fixed point but it was delicate, ripped and fraying at the edges like the untangling of threads on a silk scarf. The Doctor knew she had to tread carefully if she was to have any chance of saving Yaz, but she just wanted to curl up and sleep with her friend safe and sound beside her.

Truth be told, she wasn’t sure which Yaz she was speaking to either. There were two in front of her. One Yaz had her long hair down loose around her shoulders, a baggy grey hoodie acting as a buffer between her and the wind, and the other had her hair up in buns and was wearing a red leather jacket. One Yaz looked bemused, the other looked worried. 

‘Can I help you?’ grey-hoodie Yaz said. ‘I’m not really in the mood for company right now, but you’re not looking too good.’

‘M’fine, just got a headache,’ the Doctor replied, eyes shut as she pressed the heels of her hand into them. Now she was at the centre of the time storm - as it were - she wasn’t feeling quite so sick, but the moment where Yaz’s timeline had been neatly sliced in two was pounding against the inside of her head and she swallowed down bile when it rose up in her throat. She had no time for this.

‘Doctor.’   
She felt a soft hand on her face and when she looked up red-jacket Yaz was smiling gently at her, running her thumb reassuringly over her cheek. Despite her broken memories like shards of glass in her mind, the sensation of Yaz’s touch still sent feelings of calmness and love flooding through her and the Doctor smiled at her. 

‘I told you I’d find you,’ the Doctor said, reaching up with her own hand to cover Yaz’s. The touch was soothing, reaching through the timestreams to find her, and red-jacket Yaz tilted her head as her expression softened reassuringly at her. 

Then she blinked and grey-hoodie Yaz had a hand on her forehead, eyes narrowed in concern.

‘Your temperature is through the roof. Are you ill? You should be in a hospital.’

‘You should be with me,’ the Doctor mumbled, shaking her head as she tried to dispel the fog in her mind and squinting against the sun. Grey-hoodie Yaz frowned. 

‘With you? What do you mean? You’re shaking. What’s your name? Where did that blue box come from?!’

‘Why are you here, Yaz?’ the Doctor asked her. ‘Why here, of all places, by the side of the road?’

‘It’s peaceful up here,’ grey-hoodie Yaz said. ‘Quiet. Sometimes I feel like this is the only place I can actually hear myself think.’ She dropped her pink coat around the Doctor's shoulders, pressing her hand against her forehead again as she frowned in worry. The Doctor felt her hearts thumping hard. Of course her Yaz would want to look after her, even though as far as she was concerned they’d never met before. 

‘You really don’t look well,’ grey-hoodie Yaz was saying, reaching for the Doctor's wrist. 

The Doctor carefully moved her hand away, making as though she wanted to pull the coat a little tighter around her shoulders. Grey-hoodie Yaz finding her double heartbeats would only frighten her and the Doctor needed to tread very carefully right now. 

‘Nothing like a bit of peace and quiet every now and then, right?’ the Doctor said. ‘Sounds like you needed it.’

‘How do you know that?’ grey-hoodie Yaz asked, and the Doctor flopped onto her back, looking up at the sky. Sitting upright was becoming a struggle. The timelines were degrading around her and the Doctor knew she had to hurry. Her presence in this moment, contrary to established facts, was only eroding time further and she may accidentally end up wiping Yaz out of existence if she wasn’t careful. 

‘I can’t pretend to know or understand what you’re feeling right now,’ the Doctor said softly, watching a bird fly above her head. ‘And I’m quite socially awkward so I don’t even know if I’d be able to say anything supportive even if I did, but look at that sky, Yaz.’

Grey-hoodie Yaz hesitated, then led down beside the Doctor. 

‘Did you know that the sky is also called the celestial sphere?’ the Doctor continued. ‘In the field of astronomy that is. It’s this abstract sphere, with this Earth as its centre, on which the sun, the stars, the planets, even the moon appear to be traveling! That’s where you get constellations from, it’s the designated areas the sphere is divided into. Cool, right?’

‘Yeah,’ grey-hoodie Yaz murmured, whilst red-jacket Yaz ran her fingers through the Doctor's hair. ‘It is pretty cool.’

‘You don’t learn about that stuff in school,’ the Doctor said. ‘They teach you about Shakespeare and maths and how to sew and sports and all that stuff. That’s exciting too - especially Shakespeare, what a laugh he was - but it’s all so methodical. It takes all the joy out of it. Sometimes you just need to come up here and stare at the sky to truly appreciate the beauty around you. Sometimes, you need to know that someone - somewhere - thought that the sky was so beautiful they decided it should be called  _ a celestial sphere.  _ Look at it! A big blue expanse of emptiness, but for some people that’s their whole world.’

‘I’ve always liked the sky,’ grey-hoodie Yaz said after a moment. ‘I like stargazing, when it’s clear at night. Which it rarely is.’

‘There’s still places left on Earth that light pollution hasn’t hit,’ the Doctor reminded her. ‘You’ve just got to take a leap of faith and go to them. It’ll be worth the trip.’

‘Have you been?’ grey-hoodie Yaz asked. ‘To those places, I mean.’

‘I’ve been to those places and then some,’ the Doctor smiled. ‘It’s beautiful, but when you’re stuck in a bubble with the world rushing around you it’s so difficult to see. It’s so difficult to find the time. Tell you what, I reckon this would be a good spot to stargaze, this hill right here. You should do it. Bring a blanket and some snacks, stretch out, enjoy the view.’

‘Yeah,’ grey-hoodie Yaz said, so quietly the Doctor almost didn't hear her, ‘maybe I should.’

Time cracked beneath the Doctor's fingertips and she took a deep shuddering breath, sitting up and pressing her hands against her temples as pain like shards of glass jabbed relentlessly inside her head. She was out of time. She had to fix it  _ now.  _ She just hoped she’d done enough. 

Red-jacket Yaz wrapped her hands around the Doctor's wrists and pressed their foreheads together.

‘What’s wrong?’ grey-hoodie Yaz asked, sitting up and pausing with her hand hovering just above the Doctor's shoulder, unsure if she should touch her or not. ‘Are you alright?’

‘Time dilations hurt,’ the Doctor mumbled in response, leaning to press her forehead against cold wet grass as red-jacket Yaz rubbed her back soothingly. 

‘Time… what?’

‘I’m running out of time, literally as well as metaphorically.’

The Doctor looked up at grey-hoodie Yaz, tears of pain on her cheeks. ‘I’m sorry I let you down.’

‘What are you talking about? I don’t even know you,’ grey-hoodie Yaz said in confusion. 

‘But you will do, or at least you  _ should  _ do,’ the Doctor said, forehead scronched. She held out her hand, golden sparks of energy at her fingertips, and grey-hoodie Yaz hesitated. 

‘You really don’t look well.’

‘I have something for you, a gift,’ the Doctor mumbled, eyes straining against the blue of the sky and shivering as the chill wind ruffled her hair. ‘Please, Yaz, take my hand.’

‘Wait, I never told you my name,’ grey-hoodie Yaz realised. ‘How do you know it?’

‘Spoilers,’ the Doctor smiled bearily. ‘Trust me. Please?’

Grey-hoodie Yaz paused, then reached out and took hold of the Doctor's hand. 

Time swirled in front of them, winding, spiralling golden strands up into the air. The Doctor reached forward and grabbed hold of Yaz, pulling her into a tight hug as time winds caught the dirt and grass around them and sent it spiralling into a mini tornado. Yaz clutched at her coat, pressing her face against the Doctor's neck, and the Doctor held her tightly as the TARDIS bonged in the distance, and suddenly all was still. 

The Doctor let out a sigh of relief and collapsed back onto the ground, looking up at the bright sky and feeling the grass and dirt underneath her fingertips. The broken timeline weaved itself back together again and suddenly the Doctor could see Yaz’s future spread out along it like images on a page. A career with the police, a trip to meet Rosa Parks, cuddles and bedtime stories on a battered purple sofa. She felt light, free from pain with no temporal energies pulling and yanking at her. She could feel herself uncoiling, unwinding back into the universe. The timeline had been repaired, but this wasn’t where she was supposed to be. She saw the alternate present, with a gentle police officer and a 50 pence coin. In a moment, when she was gone, Yaz wouldn’t even remember she’d been there. 

‘Doctor?’

When she looked up, grey-hoodie Yaz and red-jacket Yaz were the same person, the timestreams having slotted neatly back together. 

‘W-what just happened?’ Yaz mumbled. ‘What was that?’

‘That was three years of my life that belong to you now,’ the Doctor said softly. ‘Do with them what you want, but I think that if you wait a little longer things will get better, they’ll get brighter, and this moment will be just that. A moment.’

‘Is that from experience?’ Yaz asked, tears in her eyes, and the Doctor smiled and nodded. 

‘Darkness never sustains,’ she whispered. ‘Even though sometimes it feels like it does.’ 

‘Wait, what’s happening?!’

Yaz reached out a hand to her, trying to touch her arm, but golden light was swirling around the Doctor as she slowly faded from view.

‘You’ll see me again, Yaz,’ the Doctor said with a smile. ‘I promise.’ 

Then she disappeared into golden dust and Yaz was left on her own, sitting alone on a hill in the Yorkshire Dales.

She blinked hard, dirt and wind in her eyes, then she stood and started walking back down towards the city.

* * *

Three years in the future, the Doctor gasped awake on the floor of her TARDIS. 

‘You alright, Doc?’ Graham asked, hovering over her anxiously. ‘You napping down there?’

The Doctor blinked up at him. She was in a well beneath her ship’s console, surrounded by tools and covered in dust and oil. Graham was crouching down over her, hands resting on his knees as he peered into the gloom.

‘She alright?’ Yaz’s voice sounded from somewhere in the console room, and the Doctor pulled herself out of the hole so quickly Graham almost fell backwards in surprise.

_ ‘Yaz.’ _

‘Morning, Doctor,’ Yaz said cheerily, cup of coffee in hand. ‘I brought you a coffee. You know, since sleep is for the weak and all that -  _ omph!’ _

The coffee sloshed over the side of the mug as the Doctor tackled her in a hug, hands around her waist squeezing her tightly as she pressed her face against Yaz’s shoulder. Alive.  _ Alive.  _ Her Yaz was alive.

‘Alright, steady on, Doc,’ Graham chuckled. ‘Yaz is gonna scold herself if you’re not - are you  _ crying?’ _

‘No.’

‘Doctor?’

Yaz handed the coffee to Graham as she tried to untangle herself from the gangly grease-covered limbs wrapped around her. The Doctor seemed reluctant to move and as Yaz put a hand gently on her head she saw a tear slide down her cheek. 

‘Are you feeling okay? You feel warm.’

‘This is what happens when you don’t sleep,’ Graham said, not unkindly. ‘You get emotional over coffee.’ 

‘Wait!’ the Doctor said suddenly, pulling away from Yaz and gripping her arms urgently. ‘Where are we?’

‘... in the TARDIS?’ Yaz said slowly, wondering if her friend had finally gone completely bonkers.

‘No, I mean where in  _ time.  _ Like, what have we just done? Where have we just been?’

‘We’ve all just woken up, Doc. Yourself included by the looks of things. Don’t you have a bedroom?’

‘Where was the last place we went?’ the Doctor asked Yaz urgently. ‘What did we do yesterday?’

‘Kevin’s World,’ Yaz replied, wondering if the Doctor would be adverse to paying a quick trip to the medical room for a once over, just in case. ‘World of Kevin’s.’

‘Kevin’s World, Kevin’s World…’ the Doctor mumbled, turning to the console and pressing various buttons and switches. 

‘I wouldn’t mind going back if you need to jog your memory, Doc,’ Graham said. ‘I would kill for one of those toffee apples right now.’ 

‘Doctor,’ Yaz said gently. ‘Are you alright?’ 

‘What?’

The Doctor looked up at her, at Yaz, at  _ her  _ Yaz stood in front of her alive and happy (and slightly covered in coffee). She wanted to cry, or laugh, or grab Yaz and never let go, but there was one thing she had to sort out first. 

‘Kevin’s World was the one with the dragon racing contest, right?’ she checked, and Yaz’s forehead creased. 

‘That’s the one,’ Graham said, though he was starting to look concerned as well. ‘Are you sure you’re feeling alright? You kind of look like you’re about to throw up.’

‘Who’s about to throw up?’ Ryan asked from the doorway, sensibly staying out of the way. 

‘We went to Kevin’s World,’ the Doctor said, forehead creased as she tried to remember a past which, despite only happening the previous day, was now a lost and confused blur in her mind. She needed time to rest and allow her recent memories to slot neatly into her existing ones but there was work to be done first. 

‘Doctor, you alright?’ Ryan asked. ‘Only you look a bit…  _ about to fall over-y.’ _

‘We went to Kevin’s World then we came back and watched a movie,’ the Doctor plowed on, ignoring the three concerned faces of her friends. ‘Then you guys went to bed and I worked on the console.’

‘Doc, what’s going on?’ Graham asked, sounding anxious now. 

‘ _ Then,’  _ the Doctor remembered, face triumphant, ‘we got the -’

A button on the console began to flash and a low siren sound filled the console room. It was one the humans had come to recognise well, and Yaz stepped a little closer to the controls. 

‘- distress call,’ the Doctor finished. 

‘Wait, how did you know that was going to happen?’ Ryan asked, looking at her suspiciously. ‘Is this like a Time Lord thing? You can see into the near future?’

‘What? No. This is a headache inducing timey wimey almost paradox kind of thing,’ the Doctor said, blinking hard and pressing her hands against her temples as lights flashed in front of her eyes. She’d saved Yaz, but the paradox needed to be corrected before the Reapers turned up to finish the job. If the Clockmaker had never happened, Yaz would never have died, and she would never have gone back in time to save her. Already she could feel the wound in time beginning to rip itself open and the longer she left it the quicker the Reapers would find it. She hovered with her hands above the controls; unsure of what to do. 

‘Timey wimey? Did you just make that up?’ Graham asked. 

‘Where’s the distress signal coming from?’ Ryan asked. ‘Is it Earth?’

The Doctor checked the controls, though she already knew the answer. Earth. London. Oxford street. 2020 (pre-pandemic and subsequent lockdown, she was doing pretty well at not letting on about that one to her friends). 

‘Yes, it is,’ she said, grabbing her coat from where she’d flung it over her science console and shrugging it on before manipulating the controls to home in on the signal. 

‘Wait, lemme grab my shoes,’ Ryan said, heading back into the belly of the ship as the sound of the ancient engines grinding filled the room.

‘No!’ the Doctor blurted out, and as the TARDIS landed with a jolt three confused faces stared at her. 

‘He can’t not wear shoes, Doc,’ Graham pointed out. ‘Especially around London.’

‘You’re not coming with me,’ the Doctor said firmly. ‘None of you are.’

‘Don’t be daft, we always come with you,’ Yaz protested. ‘What’s the matter? You don’t look right. I’m worried.’

The wound ripped a little more and the Doctor let out a quiet yelp, bending over herself and gripping hard of the console tightly as her ship chittered urgently in the back of her mind. No time, there was no time for this. 

‘Stay here, I’ll be back as soon as I can,’ the Doctor said, already holding out her hand to keep her friends back when Yaz tried to run forward. The hurt on her face broke her hearts but it had to be done. There would be a time for a proper reunion later - for her, anyway. Yaz was none the wiser - but she couldn’t risk the Reapers getting loose on London again. She was a Time Lord. This was her job. The humans wouldn’t be safe. 

Then she ran out of the console room and into the quiet early morning streets of London before her fam could run after her. 

She pulled the TARDIS door shut and double locked it. 

The Clockmaker’s shop loomed in front of her. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm SO SORRY this took me so long to finish. The self-doubt monster really got its claws in me. 
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who read this story and left me such kind and thoughtful messages. This was a tough story to write and I'm so grateful people actually read it and (hopefully?) enjoyed it <3
> 
> Love to everyone <3

She didn't bother with knocking, she wasn’t particularly in the mood for it. A quick sonic to the door sent it crashing open and she stepped inside the dusty shop, coughing when stale air got into her lungs. 

The clocks ticked onward in their infuriating distress signal arrangement. The amount of work it must have taken for the Clockmaker to do this. The amount of work it must have taken for one person to arrange  _ all  _ of these clocks  _ just to trap and murder Yaz.  _

The Doctor swept out her arm and a shelf full of clocks smashed to the floor. The noise sounded like a gunshot in the otherwise quiet stillness and she trampled the clocks underfoot, the metal and gears crunching as she headed towards the door where she knew the Clockmaker would be hiding. She pushed it open without knocking and stormed inside. This was no time for pleasantries.

The Clockmaker sat on the chair, eyes narrowed, fury across his face.

‘What did you  _ do,’  _ he growled at her, and the Doctor felt a smirk stretch across her face.

‘What do you think I did?’ she asked, arms out at her sides in a mocking tone. ‘I undid the nasty little bit of damage you did to the timelines.’

‘The  _ years I have waited -’ _

‘Don’t.’ the Doctor snarled at him. ‘Do  _ not  _ talk to me about how you waited  _ years  _ to  _ kill my friend.’ _

‘Kill your friend? My dear Doctor,’ the Clockmaker chuckled. ‘I didn't touch her. I simply pushed her into an alternate reality that was there for the taking. These fragile humans. It’s so easy for them to become misled, to lose their minds, their sense of self. And really, what is depression if not perfectly understandable? Poor little Yasmin Khan. We all have a black dog padding along besides us, Doctor. Some of us are just better at keeping it in heel.’

The Doctor punched him in the nose.

He reeled back, blood gushing down his chin as his eyes widened in shock. 

‘You  _ hit  _ me.’

‘And if you don’t leave  _ right now  _ I’ll do it again,’ the Doctor growled at him. 

‘Never,’ the Clockmaker glared at her, fury in his eyes. He stood up from the chair, towering over her. The Doctor stood her ground. She’d been standing up to bullies since she was a child and she wasn’t about to stop now, especially when her friends were in danger. Besides, what was one eternal to someone who’d faced down armies of Daleks?  _ And defeated them.  _

‘So how do you propose we settle this then, hmm?’ the Clockmaker asked. ‘I won’t leave, you won’t stand down. We both know I’m endlessly patient, Doctor. Perhaps you are too. A battle of wills then, to see who breaks first? Hmm. No. I have a better idea.’ He withdrew a sharp knife and, quick as a flash, held the point of it to her throat.

In another timeline, the Doctor saw herself frozen and unable to move whilst Yaz bargained for the lives of her friends by sacrificing her own. If she really concentrated, she could almost remember it. 

‘I’ve not had the pleasure of killing a Time Lord for so long, and your kind are so  _ fun  _ to kill,’ the Clockmaker grinned. ‘When you’re gone, Doctor, I’ll take your TARDIS key from your cold, dead body and murder your friends. Properly, this time. With no chance of rescue. Then I’ll take your TARDIS and knock about the universe for a few millennia. So many planets, so many people, so much beautiful  _ chaos. _ ’

The blade dug into her flesh and time tore around them. 

The Clockmaker clearly felt it as he stumbled back, eyes wide, the knife in his hand glinting with a dark liquid. 

The Doctor pressed a hand to her throat, feeling the blood against her skin. She wouldn’t die, it wasn’t deep enough for that, but it didn't half sting. 

‘You play around with temporal mechanics,’ she said with a feral grin. ‘Yet you don’t understand them. What happens now is entirely on you. I gave you your choice. You made the wrong one.’

‘What - what is that? What’s happening?  _ What did you do. _ ’

The Clockmaker reeled around, the knife in his hand slashing randomly at the air, and the Doctor dove for the door as the first Reaper slammed through the time vortex and screeched so loudly her eyes were ringing as she stumbled over broken pieces of clock, one hand pressed against the wound in her neck and hearts thundering unevenly as she made her way to the door. She could hear the Clockmaker scream behind her, the thud of a chair against a wall, the screech of a Reaper, then she was out into the cold London air and staggering towards the TARDIS. 

She felt something pulling behind her, time twisting and warping and collapsing in on itself, and when she’d reached the safety of her blue box and was tightly gripped the handle she turned and saw the Clockmaker’s shop vanish as the Reapers made a thorough job of demolishing the blip that had caused so much damage. She briefly considered writing them a thank you note, before one of them turned on her and screeched again. 

She hurriedly pulled out her TARDIS key. The Reaper likely wouldn’t attack her, she hadn’t  _ really  _ caused the paradox after all, but she doubted her little bat like friend would see it that way.

Although once inside the TARDIS and facing the angry expressions of her friends, she found she’d wished she’d let the Reaper devour her after all. 

_ ‘Doctor.’ _

Yaz’s hands were at her neck in an instant as Graham grabbed his scarf off the hat stand and pressed it against the wound. The door was still open and Ryan let out a yelp when he saw the Reaper as it came flying towards them. The Doctor hurriedly kicked the door shut with her boot, stumbling past Yaz and Graham and tripping over herself to get to the console. 

‘Doctor!’ 

Yaz sounded angry but the Doctor tried to ignore her for the time being. A Reaper taking on a TARDIS would certainly be something to see, and she wouldn’t put any bets on the Reaper, but best to avoid it nonetheless.

‘What was that thing?’ Ryan asked, panicked as the ship lurched from side to side. ‘And why are we running away from it? Didn't you say it was on Earth? Shouldn’t we be stopping it.’

‘It’s already left,’ the Doctor replied, checking the screen. The Reapers had vanished once they’d repaired the wound, it had only hung about out of curiosity when it detected Artron energy, but she ran a full sensor sweep across the planet just to be sure. Yaz back, Clockmaker dealt with, Reapers gone.

Her knees buckled as the full impact of the last few hours slammed into her and she dropped onto the metal grate, blood leaking through her hand as she pressed it against the slice in her neck. 

‘What happened?’ Ryan asked, dropping down beside her and retrieving Graham’s scarf from the floor, pressing it firmly against her neck. ‘You look knackered. Have you been sleeping under the console again?’

The Doctor looked up at Yaz through blearly unfocused eyes. She stood behind Ryan, worry painted across her face, frightened, concerned, but  _ alive. _

‘Hey,’ the Doctor said, a loopy smile stretching across her face.

‘God grief now she’s lost it,’ Graham muttered from somewhere behind her. 

‘Hey yourself,’ Yaz said, sitting on the floor besides Ryan and pressing a hand carefully against the Doctor's forehead. The Doctor leaned into her hand unashamedly. Yaz. Yaz.  _ Yaz. _

‘What happened?’ Yaz asked, carefully peeling away Graham’s scarf, now sticky with her blood. The wound had stopped bleeding but it was harsh and dark against her pale skin and Yaz paused with her fingertips hovering just above it. 

‘Knife?’ Graham suggested from behind her. 

‘Looks like one, too neat to be anything else,’ Yaz agreed. Her hand dropped down to the Doctor's wrist, feeling for her pulses while the other woman simply smiled at her. 

‘We should get her cleaned up,’ Ryan said. ‘Come on, Doctor. Can you stand?’

Between him and Graham, the two men managed to drag the Doctor to her feet where she swayed, unsteady between the two of them. 

‘Have you been on the sauce, Doc?’ Graham asked, grunting under her weight. ‘You’re usually a little bit more coordinated than this.’

‘Temporality Distortion Sickness,’ the Doctor mumbled. ‘I’ve already told you this. Pay attention.’

Graham and Ryan exchanged worried looks.

‘We’ve literally never heard of that,’ Yaz said. ‘You’ve never mentioned it.’

‘Yes I have!’ the Doctor protested. ‘I told Graham and Ryan when I was on his bathroom floor.’

‘When was that?’ Graham asked, confused. ‘After the funeral?’

‘What?’

The Doctor blinked at him and the TARDIS made concerned sounds above her head. There was a dull headache starting behind her temples and she could almost see clearly, she was in the right timeline after all, but then what was the ‘right’ timeline when endless possibilities lay at her fingertips? She was in the timeline where Yaz hadn’t died, in the one before the Clockworker had mucked around in temporal mechanics, but she felt disoriented from the sudden change and suddenly had a yearning for a nap. 

‘Oh, maybe I didn't,’ she conceded. ‘Can we go somewhere with a sofa? I love a good sofa.’

‘Are you gonna tell us what happened to your neck?’ Ryan asked as he and Graham half carried her along the TARDIS’ long sloping corridors. ‘Was it those scythe things?’

‘And what were they, anyway?’ Graham asked. ‘You seem very blase about the whole thing.’ 

‘It’s a long story,’ the Doctor said, feeling her knees buckling. It really wasn’t very dignified, being dragged like this, but she was too tired to try and protest. 

‘If that’s your way of saying you’re not gonna tell us…’

Graham sounded hurt and the Doctor attempted a smile, though she was pretty sure it may have come out as more of a grimace.

‘I’ll tell you. I need to check with someone it’s okay to tell you first, though.’

‘Who?’

They reached the library and the Doctor slipped out of the grasp of the two men and onto the purple sofa, hugging the cushions tightly and letting out a happy sigh. 

‘Wait, your neck!’ Yaz protested.

‘S’fine,’ the Doctor mumbled, comfortable and not in any hurry to move. ‘It’ll heal over in a bit.’

‘You sure you’re alright, Doc?’ Graham asked. ‘You don’t need to go to A&E or anything?’

‘Never go anywhere that’s just initials,’ the Doctor reminded him, half asleep as Ryan replied with: ‘You do realise that’s slightly hypocritical, right?’ She could feel herself sinking into the soft material of the sofa, sleep reaching up to clutch at her and drag her down. Normally she’d do anything to avoid sleeping but it was the only way for her to sort through the tangle of timelines she was wrapped in. She opened her eyes briefly to see Yaz kneeling in front of her, a hand on her forehead. 

‘I missed you,’ the Doctor whispered to her, hearts beating fast against her ribcage. 

‘Missed me?’ Yaz replied. ‘Where did I go?’

‘Somewhere that was hard for me to get to you,’ the Doctor said so softly Yaz could barely hear her. 

A few moments later there was a blanket up over her shoulders and she was dead to the world. 

* * *

There was a woman in a police uniform sitting on the road besides Yaz. 

The Doctor stood in front of her, forehead wrinkled. Was this the past or the future? There was wind rustling her hair but there was no sky, only space. Galaxies and constellations the likes of which you’d never find on Earth were floating above her head and when the Doctor turned around she found that the hill ended barely inches from her boots. This was one tiny slice of time suspended amongst billions of others. This was Yaz’s timeline, the correct one, fitting itself back into place.

‘Did she change your mind?’ she asked Yaz, though she didn't expect a response. ‘Was this the moment where time diverted? Sitting up here on a hill on your own?’

‘Maybe she did,’ Yaz replied, looking straight at her. ‘Or maybe it was you.’

‘How can you see me?’ the Doctor breathed, and Yaz smiled. 

‘I’m an echo, like you right now. Or maybe I’m the real thing. I’m not sure anymore. But you saved me just as much as she did.’

‘I wish I’d known you, Yaz,’ the Doctor whispered, shaking her head sadly. ‘Back then. I wish I’d been there to help you through this.’

‘You help me through stuff every single day,’ Yaz insisted. ‘You being here now, the implications of that! You ripped through time to bring me back. If that’s not helping me I don’t know what is.’

‘I said we can’t have a universe with no Yaz, didn't I?’ the Doctor said, forehead scronched as she tried to remember. 

‘You did,’ Yaz agreed. ‘I just didn't realise until just now how much you meant it.’

She held out her hand, a 50p coin on her palm, and dropped it into the Doctor's. 

‘I figure I owe you that too,’ Yaz said with a smile, but the Doctor shook her head. 

‘You don’t owe me anything.’ 

‘I gave that to Officer Patel as a token,’ Yaz insisted. ‘It isn’t money, not really. It’s become more than that now. It’s a symbol, that things will get better, that we’ll all get out the other side. Because we will, won’t we, Doctor?’

‘I wish I was half as brave as you, Yaz.’

‘Funny,’ Yaz replied, head tilted. ‘I think the same about you. I’ve never met anyone as brave as you.’

‘Human bravery is something else though,’ the Doctor said. ‘Every child faces up to the monster under their bed at one point in their life and they always win. It makes you feel invincible. Except when you get older the monster becomes something else. It doesn’t have a physical form but it still has teeth, it can still draw you in. And it’s a lot harder to fight off.’ 

Yaz shuffled forwards so she could reach out her arms and pull the Doctor into a hug. 

‘I’d be lying if I said I didn't still think about it sometimes,’ she whispered. ‘But I defeated that monster just like you’ll defeat yours.’

‘I don’t have a -’

‘Then why do you keep going back to Gallifrey?’

The Doctor closed her mouth and fell silent. 

‘You’ve got a family who loves you,’ Yaz said. ‘Just like I have a family that loves me. I know Sonya and I never seem to get on, but she saved my life in that moment. One day, you’ll let us do the same thing for you.’

The edges of her vision were growing darker now, the light shrinking until it was just her and Yaz sitting together in the vastness of space. 

‘It’s just us out here,’ Yaz told her. ‘Don’t push us away.’

* * *

The Doctor startled awake on the sofa. 

Opposite her was Yaz, sprawled across the rug with her jacket over her shoulders, fast asleep. There was a fire burning in the hearth which the TARDIS must have lit, and when the Doctor sat up she found a neat bandage pressed against her neck. There was no sign of Graham or Ryan.

‘Come on you,’ she said softly to Yaz. ‘You can’t sleep there.’ 

She bent down, lifting Yaz up as carefully as she could, and transferred her to the spot she’d just vacated. Kneeling down, she brushed long dark hair away from Yaz’s face and pulled the blanket up and over her. Asleep like this, face relaxed and mouth slack, the Doctor was reminded just how young Yaz really was. 

She stood and stretched, feeling aching muscles tugging, and made her way to the console room. The lights were down, the ship in night mode, and there was a peaceful stillness in the air. The Doctor paused with her hand above the controls. There, on the console, was a 50p coin.

The TARDIS murmured quietly. 

‘That’s not possible,’ the Doctor breathed, and she hesitantly lifted up the coin. It felt light in her hand, the thin metal leaving indents in her skin when she closed her palm around it. It was definitely real and not only that, it was the exact same coin Yaz had given her. 

‘I thought it was only a dream but it wasn’t, was it?’

Yaz’s voice came from the doorway where she stood, the blanket wrapped around her as she blinked at the Doctor. 

‘I - I don’t understand,’ the Doctor said quietly, the words feeling foreign as they left her mouth. 

‘I had that dream weeks ago,’ Yaz said, coming to stand beside her, looking down at the coin in her friend’s palm. ‘Then when you said you missed me and that I’d gone somewhere where it was hard for you to find me I knew it must have been real. I died, didn't I? There was a reality where I died?’

The Doctor could only open and close her mouth, disbelief flooding her features. 

‘Thank you, Doctor,’ Yaz whispered, reaching out a hand to curl the Doctor's fingers around the coin. ‘For not giving up on me.’

‘I never would,’ the Doctor replied, eyes soft. ‘Never. What do you remember?’

‘I’m not sure,’ Yaz admitted. ‘It gets a little fuzzier every time I try. I remember being in a room with you and Ryan and Graham. You were all… frozen. There was a man. He told me he would let you live but I had to do something first.  _ Give  _ him something. Time, I think.’

‘It’ll all fade, eventually,’ the Doctor said. ‘It’s remnants of a fragmented timeline. You probably only remember it at all because of the TARDIS. It’s echos, bouncing around in here, but it won’t last.’

‘What if I want it to though?’ Yaz said quietly. ‘What if I want to remember?’

‘Dreams always fade eventually,’ the Doctor said gently. ‘No matter how hard you try and hold onto them.’

‘Doctor…’

‘Yes, Yaz?’

‘Can I have a hug?’

The Doctor stepped forward, pulling her in tightly. Yaz rested her head just under the Doctor's chin, hearing the thumps of twin hearts through her chest. She was warm and smelt like sugar - and something slightly more burny - and Yaz closed her eyes when she felt warm arms wrap themselves around her. This was the closest the Doctor had gotten to her for months now, ever since that whole spymaster debuckle, and Yaz got the feeling the Doctor needed this hug just as much as she did. 

‘The boys are gonna ask questions when they wake up,’ the Doctor said, not letting go of Yaz. ‘They’re gonna ask what happened to me. What do you want to tell them?’

‘The truth,’ Yaz whispered in response. ‘They’re my family. They should know. What  _ did  _ happen to you, by the way? What were those creatures?’

‘I guess you could call them glorified bin collectors,’ the Doctor said thoughtfully. ‘Or plasterers? No, surgeons? I’ll try and think of a better analogy by tomorrow.’

‘And tonight?’

‘I’ll be here, for as long as you need me.’

‘And if I never stop needing you?’

‘Then I’ll never stop being here. That's what families do.'


End file.
